Clock Struck One

Page last updated: March 7th, 2019.Header image credits: “Entryway to a Heart of Snowy Glass,” papercraft by me.

“Inside all of us is a light, but some beacons are darker than others, and some are so dark they never realize they are a form of light at all.” — Courtney M. Privett

Somewhere out in the real world, there’s an oft-repeated tale about the ivory tower. It’s a strange place said to hold an elite group bearing vast minds and bigger books (and electronic devices). Such faraway people hidden from the rest, knowing so little of life out here. They have quirks and argue a-plenty, but questing binds them together. You know, that imposing yet gleaming, but oh-so-shiny, ivory tower. Yeah that one, in a city near you.Photograph of Kariel Tejai by Mirko Petricevic of Martin Luther University College; September 2016. Permission granted to repost on this domain.Sound ridiculous? It’s a story repeated across many situations and experiences. Some of these wondrous; others horrific. Won’t fantastical tales challenge and comfort you? Question, but not blindly. Here, poignancy asks you,

“Could you believe that this world, too, would still be beautiful?”

I pursue that One who is not silenced, and the timid one is me. Life informs my learning, learning interprets my life. I love my tower and it’s made with vinyl. You can be assumed in an outside world a lot better with vinyl. People know you hear things. See things. People understand when you tell of a tornado shaking your haven. Your experience in smelling the wildflowers just by your windows is acknowledged. You, like anyone else may, taste the rain knocking for dominion’s sanctuary.

“Dremael. The Midsummer Night’s Dream. The light that shines deep within your soul. The place where you will find yourself again.” — Andrei; 2016.

I have full papers written within academic institutions as archived on this site, let alone my wealth of content that are products of my living and learning. I take care to provide credits or references for others. Readers are expected to reciprocate.

Where can I go, then, to take refuge from thy spirit, to hide from thy view? If I should climb up to heaven, thou art there; if I sink down to the world beneath, thou art present still. If I could wing my way eastwards, or find a dwelling beyond the western sea, still would I find thee beckoning to me, thy right hand upholding me. Or perhaps I would think to bury myself in darkness; night should surround me, friendlier than day; but no, darkness is no hiding-place from thee, with thee the night shines clear as day itself; light and dark are one.